Home
by thecrackshiplollipop
Summary: Rachel is a star and finding a balance between travelling and being with Quinn is harder than either of them imagined. Inspired by "Home" by Michael Bublé.


**A/N:** I do not own the characters on Glee. Yet. This fic was inspired by the song "Home" by Michael Bublé. Go listen to it if you haven't.

**Home**

_Another summer day  
>Has come and gone away<br>In Paris and Rome  
>But I wanna go home<em>

It starts with a trip to LA for a premier of the animated Wicked in which Rachel has voiced Elphaba. Things are still tentative with Quinn's place at the mental health clinic, so she stays in Manhattan.

"_Someone has to take care of the cats, Rach." She tucks a loose strand of Rachel's hair back and kisses the top of her head, "it's just a few days in LA and then you'll be home for the New York premier at the Gershwin."_

"_You're right, Quinn. Of course. I'll just…"_

"_I'll miss you too, baby." She pulls the shorter girl close and holds her tight, begging her heart to steady its thudding as Rachel tucks her head close to her chest and exhales shakily._

They're still young (_"__26 is so young! Look at Idina Menzel and Taye Diggs!"_) and Carla insists it's best for young couples like them to have separation. Some drivel about making the heart grow fonder and getting used to the limelight. Rachel tunes her manager out and thinks that maybe after all the movie-hype dies down she'll propose buying a condo to Quinn.

Her hair is pulled back and curled, her eyelashes look insanely long with that volumizing mascara, and she's figured out the best way to turn for the cameras. Carla promises she'll get used to the red carpet, that one day she'll be so used to the flashing lights and shouts that it'll feel like stepping onto the stage or stepping into her apartment.

Quinn watches the live-feed of the red carpet at home with the cats, Lizzie and Darcy, curled up on her lap and a big glass of wine. Once Rachel disappears into the theatre she closes the laptop and reaches for her patient notes from earlier. She's flipping through the notebook and Lizzie is lazily cleaning Darcy's ear when her phone buzzes: _I__miss you, Q._

_We can do this Rach. I love you._

_I love you, too._

Quinn remembers that she has two bi-polar patients in the morning and that Rachel will be on the plane home by Saturday.

Rachel settles into her seat, restlessly tapping her foot and only turns her phone off when the producer tilts back to say something to her. She swallows her nerves and reminds herself: two more days.

_May be surrounded by  
>A million people I<br>Still feel all alone  
>I just wanna go home<br>Oh, I miss you, you know_

New York is worse. It's a fish tank filled with piranha and Rachel is salmon compared to them. One of Quinn's patients is in the ER and she's pulled in for a consult at the last minute. Carla insists it's for the best, as the movie is aimed at teenagers, and it's "not best for your image".

She only gets two days in New York before the London premier at the West End's Apollo Victoria. Two days and one already wasted on all of the effort put into getting ready for a premier.

She gets Quinn's text just before she turns her phone off_:__I have to escort this patient to Bellevue. Coffee in the morning?_

_Sounds good. Love you._

She doesn't wait for a response, because she can feel the tears stinging the corners of her eyes and the lights are dimming in the theatre.

_And I've been keeping all the letters that I wrote to you  
>Each one a line or two<br>"I'm fine baby, how are you?"  
>Well I would send them but I know that it's just not enough<br>My words were cold and flat  
>And you deserve more than that<em>

Quinn doesn't get home until eight the next night. Intake, crisis management, family intervention, it all takes a while. Rachel is asleep on the couch, a half-finished letter scribbled on one of Quinn's legal pads which Quinn painstakingly extracts.

_Quinn~_

_I know you're busy, but I've been sitting here all day missing you. Between Carla and the hair and make up team, I barely saw you yesterday. This is the longest we've gone without seeing each other, without sharing a bed, since you went back to Lima for your father's funeral._

_I hope this will all_

Quinn sighs and kisses the top of Rachel's head softly before slipping into their bedroom to take a much needed shower.

_Another aeroplane  
>Another sunny place<br>I'm lucky, I know  
>But I wanna go home<br>Mmmm, I've got to go home_

Rachel spends their first Thanksgiving in their condo on an airplane halfway over the Atlantic. Quinn makes her promise that next time Thanksgiving will be the two of them, instead of Quinn tagging along with Hiram and Leroy for tofurkey and cranberry sauce while Rachel gets jetlagged. Rachel promises, but inside she's pretty sure it's just another one of her unknowing lies.

The plane touches down in Malpensa at the same time that Quinn is curling up under the covers of Rachel's old bed, the walls still sunny yellow but now missing the Broadway posters and collages. Rachel makes it to her car under a shower of flashbulbs with her name shouted in thickly accented voices. In the car Carla checks Twitter and the Rachel Berry tags on tumblr while Rachel stares at Quinn's last text from right before the airplane took off: _I__miss you already. Please don't forget about me. I love you, Rach._ She opens a text box, but stares at it blankly as the car zips through early morning Milan traffic.

_Let me go home  
>I'm just too far from where you are<br>I wanna come home_

"I miss you, Rachel." Quinn's voice is heavy and cracks. She sounds more tired than Rachel's ever heard, even during her first rotations in medical school. Rachel presses her fingers to the receiver to take a shaky breath. Be stronger, Rachel, be stronger.

"I miss you, too, baby. I'm going to ask Roger to pull in my understudy."

"No, Rach," Quinn sighs softly and the line is momentarily overcome by the soft purring as Lizzie presses her face to the receiver. "Lizzie, no, c'mon." Quinn grunts and pushes the Calico off of the couch.

"I miss them too," she laughs and shuts her eyes, resting her head fully into the pillow. "Please, baby, let me come home. I can't do this for much longer."

"When's the European leg over?" Quinn rolls her eyes as Lizzie jumps back up onto her lap, curling up promptly to prevent any more attempts by Quinn to dislodge her. The blonde begrudgingly strokes the cat's neck and leans into the couch back.

"Only a few more weeks. I should be home in time for Christmas?" She fails at sounding hopeful and a heavy silence falls across the line.

"Marry me." She whispers it, busying her fingers with the patterns on Lizzie's coat.

"I… Quinn?"

"_Marry__me_, Rachel Berry. Distance doesn't matter to me. You're doing what you love, I'm doing what I love, and we have our whole life ahead of us. Finish the European tour, come home to me, and marry me."

"Yes," Rachel's response is wet and soft since she's biting her lip because it's late and she's desperately trying not to wake up the entire floor with her sobs.

_And I feel just like I'm living someone else's life  
>It's like I just stepped outside<br>When everything was going right  
>And I know just why you could not<br>Come along with me  
>'Cause this was not your dream<br>But you always believed in me_

It's a miracle she makes it through London because New York is on the other side of it all and she can almost taste it. Quinn starts moonlighting at Bellevue to beef up her resume so she can get out of the clinic rut so more often than not they communicate through missed calls and hasty emails.

_I read the review in the French paper, they said you're like a young Streisand. I'm so, so proud of you._

_I can't believe you're finally getting considered for a position at that Upper East Side practice. You deserve it, baby._

_I miss you, Rach._

_I miss you, Quinn._

They don't talk about marriage, because they both realise that the tour breaks in New York for a few days before the American leg starts up, and neither can bear the thought of a shotgun wedding.

_Another winter day has come  
>And gone away<br>In even Paris and Rome  
>And I wanna go home<br>Let me go home_

The plane touches down at O'Hare just before a huge storm is set to hit Chicago. It's the middle of January and Quinn is working on settling into her new practice. She texts Rachel a picture of her view, grey winter clouds hovering over barren Central Park trees. Rachel feels the longing pull in her chest because the jacket she bought Quinn their first winter in New York is hanging off of the chair in the corner of the picture. It's a ridiculous thing, too-bright blue with a big belt around the waist and a scratchy tag at the collar that Quinn constantly complains about. The last time Rachel saw it, Quinn was shoving it into the back of the coat closet when they were moving into their condo. It's an unexpected thing and keeps Rachel quiet the whole ride to the hotel. She can feel something shifting, a small thing unsettling in her heart.

"_It's just this gloomy weather. After Italy and southern France and, hell, even London was sunny when we left it. American winter is so dramatic. We should get you one of those anti-depression lights. I heard Sophia Loren uses one when she's visiting the north."_

She stares out the window of her hotel room watching the first flakes of snow drift down on the city.

_And I'm surrounded by  
>A million people I<br>Still feel all alone  
>Oh, let me go home<br>Oh, I miss you, you know_

The last time Rachel was in LA was for her movie premier. That was two years ago, two tours ago, and everything felt a thousand times more overwhelming. Carla was right about one thing, she'd gotten used to the red carpet. Two benefits down and she felt like her best angle was still the over-the-shoulder pose she'd perfected all those years ago. It was chilly outside, so she was more covered up than usual and it suited her, because Carla had forbidden her wearing the ring Quinn had slipped onto her finger her first night back in New York. Instead, she wears the ring on a thin gold chain, the band cold and heavy against her skin.

"_The public won't understand, Rachel." Carla is insistent, that the public will chew Quinn alive, and hands over the necklace chain with more forcefulness than necessary. Rachel holds onto the tears until she can get a moment away from the prep team._

She fiddles with the delicate chain in her chair, her phone balanced carefully on her knee that she focuses on keeping steady. Quinn worked late, like every Friday, and is probably already asleep after a long day. Her last text is, as it always is: I love you, Rach. But that doesn't stop Rachel from hoping.

One more show, Saturday night, and it's over. She just has to keep reminding herself to breathe.

_Let me go home  
>I've had my run<br>Baby, I'm done  
>I gotta go home<br>Let me go home  
>It will all be all right<br>I'll be home tonight  
>I'm coming back home<em>

Quinn is sleeping on her favourite arm chair by the window with a book scattered on the floor and Darcy curled up on the chair back. Rachel slips into the apartment, hazy yellow light spilling across Quinn's features, illuminating the rise and fall of her chest. Rachel looks weary and sets her suitcase down softly, before sliding her flats off and tip toeing across the book-strewn living room to the chair.

"Quinn," Rachel whispers against the blonde's ear, kissing softly to further rouse her sleeping fiancée. "Baby, wake up."

"Mmm?" Quinn shifts slightly, turning her head to the sound.

"Sweetheart, it's me. Wake up." Rachel runs the tips of her fingers over Quinn's arm and jabs her bicep softly.

"Rach…?" Quinn opens one eye slowly and when Rachel's face swims into focus both eyes snap open and she's staring into Rachel's dark brown eyes. "Rach! You're home! I didn't… I thought you were coming home this afternoon? I would've…"

"Baby, it's okay, I couldn't wait any longer. I had Carla muscle my way onto an earlier flight and got here as soon as I could. It's 2 AM." Rachel blinks tiredly, straightening up to scratch Darcy behind the ears.

Quinn stretches her legs out until her knees and ankles pop from the effort. "Honey, you didn't have to. You look exhausted."

"I am," Rachel smiles and rubs the back of her neck slowly. "I kind of wanted to sleep in bed with my fiancée."

"Right," Quinn stands up and slips her long arms around Rachel's waist, "and your two overly affectionate cats, of course." She tilts her head down so her forehead rests against the shorter girl's.

"Of course," Rachel whispers and presses a soft kiss to Quinn's lips. "I've missed you so much, Quinn," the brunette murmurs against the taller girl's mouth.

"Me too, baby." Quinn's eyelids droop halfway and she smiles sleepily.

"Let's go to bed. We can discuss wedding arrangements in the morning."

"Mmm…" Quinn hums softly and allows herself to be led into the bedroom and beneath the covers of their bed. Somewhere in the back of her head she registers the words "wedding arrangements" but she's too tired and too content with Rachel's heartbeat to care about the panic attack she'll have over breakfast.

Rachel smiles as Quinn settles against her chest, her shaggy blonde hair (desperately in need of a trim) smells like apples and her skin is soft beneath her fingers. The taller girl is asleep in moments, snoring softly, and Rachel is finally able to relax knowing that despite the thousands of miles that had separated them, the dozens of changes, and the new sheets Quinn had to pick out on her own, nothing has really changed between them. She closes her eyes as Lizzie and Darcy hop onto the bed to assume their normal sleeping spots at the foot of the bed, the soft ticking of an antique alarm clock filling the silent space between cats purring and Quinn snoring.

_Home._


End file.
